


Tell Me About Your Drawings

by thatdragonchic



Series: Discovering M. Stilinski [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lydia Martin Loves Stiles Stilinski, Mentions of Claudia Stilinski - Freeform, Stiles Stilinski Loves Lydia Martin, small!stiles, stydia centric, stydia in the third grade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:43:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7043020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdragonchic/pseuds/thatdragonchic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of my new series "Finding out about M. Stilinski" <br/>Lydia Martin feels like she doesn't know her boyfriend at all, not the way that he knows her, so she marches over to the Stilinski household with a plan in mind- granted it's not a great plan, but it's a plan- and her journey begins by looking through his drawings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me About Your Drawings

See the distinct problem was, was that Lydia Martin was starting to feel like she knew absolutely nothing about her new boyfriend. She would walk into his house with all the familiarity in the world but then she would notice something she didn’t notice before, he’d be doing something or watching something she didn’t think he even liked before- and he would mention things to Scott that she had absolutely no idea about. She didn’t understand it in the least. Lydia Martin felt that she had no idea who Stiles Stilinski really was and that was not okay with her. 

So in order to solve her problem, she devises a plan of action to meet the problem, in which it was to figure out her boyfriend completely. She wanted to know what made him look so sad sometimes and she wanted to know why he would draw sometimes but not others- she wanted to know about the piano in the corner of the dining room that she had previously not noticed before until she saw him dusting it off and realized that it  _ was  _ a piano and not just a cupboard of some sort. Her plan was simple, she would go into the house and acquire a moments alone with him before demanding some simple answers. Of course, it might not have been the best plan in the world but it was the best she could think of that didn’t require snooping and him being suspicious of her. 

 

Lydia leaves her house at 9 AM saturday morning and heads out to the Stilinski household where she finds that Stiles is awake, reclined on the couch with a reuben sandwich, a cup of coffee on the side of his breakfast. He looks up from the TV where Spongebob is playing and puts his plate down. 

“Lydia, I didn’t know you were coming over- If I knew I would’ve made you breakfast. Do you want me to make you a sandwich?”

“No I’m okay. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh… Is everything okay?” He asks, standing to greet her and she waves him off, sitting down next to where he was sitting down beside her.

“I feel like I don’t know you.”

“What?”

“Like… I feel like there’s so much about you I don’t know and I feel like you know  _ everything  _ about me.”

Stiles nods, watching her, as if waiting for more of an explanation but Lydia just looks up at him expectantly with her big green eyes and Stiles raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think I get what you mean. You know tons about me.”

“Knowing that you love All Time Low and that you’re favorite song is  _ Red  _ by Taylor swift doesn’t count as ‘knowing tons about you’,” She points out and Stiles laughs.

“You know a little more than that.”

“I know as much about as Liam knows. You love solving things, you’re smarter than you put yourself to be, you have ADHD, you’re hopelessly in love with me, and your mom’s dead. I want to  _ know  _ you. I didn’t know you draw until I saw you drawing a few weeks ago in the morning.”

“I like to draw sometimes.”

“Why? Since when do you draw?”

“Since I was a child. My mom used to work in the fashion industry so I would sit and draw while she did her sketches.”

“See? I never would have known that. I don’t know those things about you. I want to know those things about you.”

“And in due time you will know those things about me.”

“I want to know them now, I don’t like feeling like I don’t have a single clue about you.”

“Alright- where do you want me to start? With my mom?”

“You don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to,” Lydia assures, her hand reaching out to him and he rolls his eyes and picks up his plate and takes a bite. She can tell he’s thinking while he chews, and after he swallows he downs a gulp of coffee before leaning back. 

“I don’t mind talking about her- it’s not painful, really. It hasn’t been since maybe a few months after she died or maybe like a year. I kind of learned to cherish her. She’s my favorite thing in the whole world- and it’s like I love talking about her but I also don’t… I don’t want to forget her.”

“That’s really sweet,” she says, leaning into the couch. “What was she like?”

“She was… she was really charismatic. I remember that she used to appreciate everything the world had to offer. She loved wearing dresses and she has this one perfume that she always wears- and hats. She  _ loved  _ hats and I don’t really know why. She just liked to wear them- my dad has all these photo’s of them in college together and she’s always wearing hats, especially this one ‘Sonora Lodge’ hat, dad said her family would go there every summer, it was her favorite hat and she used to wear it all the time. I remember we used to be members but we stopped going when she got ill and I guess we never really thought of going back.”

“What is it?”

“Sonora Lodge? It’s just like a resort kind of place in Vancouver. She got the hat when she was 16, I still have it somewhere in the attic. It’d look really cute on you, and it matches your hair.”

“You’re joking, right? I would never do that to you-”

“Seriously, if my mom was here, she’d probably still be wearing that hat, probably would’ve popped it right on your head- she used to tell me we’d end up together, me and you.” 

“She did? I don’t think I believe that, that’s pulled straight out of your ass Stilinski.”

“No she did! I used to talk about you all the time and how much I hated that you were so much smarter than me and whatever before the third grade and I used to tell her I thought you were horrible and  _ so  _ ugly. She always laughed and told me that I’d end up falling in love with you and that we’d get married or something. I never believed her but I guess she wasn’t wrong. I kind of fell back on my feelings for you.”

“Did you feel like you had to like me?”

Stiles shook his head. “Remember when it was your ninth birthday and nobody took from your cupcakes because Cathrine Brokobin started a big playground event and I was the only one who sat with you?”

Lydia furrows her brows but thinks for a moment. “I remember being alone that day and that nobody took from my cupcakes or talked to me. I can vaguely remember you being there, yeah.”

“That’s when I started liking you. I felt bad for you that day and I thought that really, you weren’t so bad and I liked talking to you.”

“We became really close after that,” she recalls and he nods.

“And then after fifth grade we grew apart again but I still liked you.”

She smiles and leans over him, taking his coffee cup. “You didn’t stay up all night again did you?”

“I’m not going to answer that, you’re going to be disappointed.”

Lydia rolls her eyes at him and takes a sip of the coffee. 

“I could make you a cup,” he offers and she shakes her head.

“I like yours. Besides, how many have you had this morning?”

“That’s my first mind you.” 

She raises an eyebrow at him, looking at him in disbelief. “When was the one before this?”

“Four AM, it’s well deserved.”

She scoffs and continues sipping. “Can I see your drawings?”

“If you want. They’re in that shelf thing over there,” he tells her, vaguely gesturing at the large bookcase with a set of cupboards on the bottom half of it. She nods and goes over, looking through the piles of things on the shelves, the books- she notices a good few of them have  _ C. Autenberg  _ etched in marker on them but have new post it notes in them, still bright blue and pink and barely dusty at all- Stiles has been reading them, she could tell from the systematic color coding that the post it’s seemed to have. “The green folder on the second shelf on the right,” he advises. 

Lydia takes his directions and finds the folder, opening it she realizes it’s a series of art projects from when he was a child.  _ Mieczyslaw Stilinski  _ printed in ragged handwriting on the bottom of each of them. She giggles, looking through each amused before bringing it and a sketchbook that she sees beside it too and goes back to the couch. 

“Now this is an amazing butterfly,” she points out, pulling out a butterfly craft on paper and he laughs. 

“I don’t think it’s so bad for a project I made when I was five, I think I’ve since improved.”

He takes the sketchbook down and flips to a page where he’d sketched one of the bushes in his backyard, with a few butterflies, small or large, on the flowers in the bush. He shows it to her and she smiles, hands moving over the quick sketch lines that remained unerased- he’d only used three colors she used: green, yellow and purple. It made for a nice picture the way it was squared itself out, and his use of each color, how he made it look darker or lighter in certain spots. She thought it was a beautiful picture, even if bordered sloppy. 

“You’re right. You’ve improved,” she notes. “I mean, unlike most people who couldn’t draw to save their lives.”

Stiles laughs and shrugs. “I mean, I don’t do it often. I just like to sketch sometimes. I’m not really talented at all or anything.”

“Not talented?” She asks in disbelief before smacking him with the sketch book. “Look at this!” She points to the picture before taking it and flipping through. He had a lot sketches. She points to one of a house on fire. “This is not talented?”

“You could probably do better.”

“You’re impossible. This is amazing.”

“It’s ugly really.”

“Shut up Stiles.”

She huffs and continues to flip through his pictures, she feels a bit mournful because so many of them are dark and sorrowful, she wonders what they mean, she wonders if this is how he really thinks- if everything is behind a dark pencil drawn screen. She looks to him and she doesn’t see the darkness on the page though, she sees a young man becoming, with a lot of future in mind. Stiles doesn’t seem to notice her at all and he’s since flipped the channel to a FOX special for Brooklyn Nine-Nine. She looks to the boy on the page of the sketch book, crying on a floor with a gun pointed to the side of his head, then looks to the man before her. She agrees with herself, they are not the same but they are apart of each other- the boy on paper and the man in real life. 

Lydia can conclude that from the drawings that Stiles puts his darkest thoughts on paper- she sees that most of the pictures, unlike the butterflies and the one drawing of a bird on a branch on the tree outside his window, there really isn’t much that is good. She wonders if he sees himself as a good guy and she reaches over to card her fingers through his hair. “You know you’re not a bad guy.”

Stiles raises a brow. “I didn’t think I was too bad of a guy.”

“A lot of these are really dark.”

“A lot of them were from last summer, after the Nogitsune.”

“Oh… You don’t still feel like this do you? Like it’s not worth it or something, right?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I’m kind of over it, really.”

“Kind of over it isn’t being over it, over it.”

“I don’t think we ever really get over the bad things that happen to us, we just have to carry them with us and live on. Don’t we?”

“I guess you’re right… but it’s not like… it’s not like this bad anymore-” she points to a picture that could only suggest at one point he’d considered suicide, considering the picture drawn by his own hand was a boy with a knife lodged into his stomach.

Stiles shakes his head. “No it’s not. Besides, that’s a thing to talk about another day.” He shuts the journal and puts it aside. “Now are you going to watch the Brooklyn Nine-Nine marathon with me or be a debby downer?”

She scoffs and shoves him aside, leaning into his arms and stealing his coffee cup back. To her dismay, it was almost empty. “I’m down for a binge session, sure.”

Stiles smiles and presses a gentle kiss to her head, and wraps his arm around her. “Then I guess it’s gonna be a good day.” 


End file.
